Dreamcatcher
by danglingdingle
Summary: For once in their lives, Will tells a story, while Jack listens. Part of the 'Walk' series written in collaboration with mamazano, yet, a stand-alone. Jack/Will slash. Disclaimer: Disney's characters used here for no profit whatsoever.


Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.

~ Chief Si'ahl (Seattle)

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The sight of the small willow hoop, covered with thin strings of leather, sinewy strands crisscrossing within to form an intricate web, a brown bead seated in the center, sent an ancient shiver through Will's spine.

Leaning back into Jack, who had been standing behind him eagerly, Will closed his eyes and lost himself into the security of Jack's arms, gently dandled to meet another memory.

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It was when Will's recurring nightmares, the ones where Jack was run through by Barbossa's sword, became less frequent, the ones where Jack turned into a loveless monster in the cutting, cold light of the moon, abated, and the terror of waking up into another nightmare, over and over again to find a fleshless skull resting next to him, grinning a dead smile which tore the mind of the man teetering on the brink of slumber, where grown men were but babes again, afraid of finding their worst fears staring at them, if they dared to open their eyes when they, finally, finally awoke into reality.

Jack had gone beyond measure to banish the devils dwelling in Will's mind.

Whenever Will had startled from his sleep, terrified, whimpering incoherent words among which Jack could make heartbreaking pleads to heathen gods, prayers begging for them to undo what they'd done, curses, promises of vengeance.

His efforts to claim Will into his arms for sense of safety, to pacify, were forcefully swatted away, the wisps and tendrils of evil spirits coiled around Will's soul more powerful than a mere man's love.

So Jack had waited, counting breaths, the beat of his own heart matching the pulse on Will's neck as he fought his way through the eerie mists, avoiding, eluding the serpents lunging forth from the black dead trees of living Hell.

Night after night, Jack waited for the shuddering, deep breath separating Will from this world and that, and begun to guide him the rest of the way on the path which lead his beloved back to him.

He never embraced Will, not after the first realization that for Will, it was not Jack who held him. Jack did not take Will's hand, nor soothed his face, for the time Will had jolted from his touch, the resulting blabber about bare bones having rooted deep into Jack's core, was a time one too many.

Instead, he curled on their bed to find Will's hand, and breathed.

Warm, living breaths, each one convincing Will further that he was safe, that it was Jack, for there weren't a Caliban in existence which would waste time to give life, instead of taking it. As Will's tense form relaxed, if only a little, Jack moved up along Will's arm, gingerly brushing his lips against the skin, searching and finding small, smooth dots of burn scars, and bestowing a soft kiss on each.

Longer, bolder exhalations to show Will the rest of the way, assured by the wistful gasp of faint realization that it was "Jack," and Jack lift himself higher.

Carefully, unthreatening, mindful that the strands of his hair did not fall on Will's face to break the spell, Jack pressed his lips on Will's temple, silently agreeing that it was him, wordlessly convincing that it would never be anyone else, and slowly moved to give finality to his guidance.

His kisses on Will's eyelids, the lingering tenderness opened the last locks, and Will could open his eyes, only to close them again, as he gathered Jack close, enwrapped him into his gratitude, and after the final trembles of his knotted gut passed, the content of Jack's scent in his nostrils, his leg thrown over his own, him being here, Will slept the rest of the night peacefully, knowing, that Jack would ward off the beasts when they'd emerge again.

When Will's horrors stopped altogether, it was when Jack's nightly torture only begun.

Whether it was a mere coincidence, or if the demons that had bedeviled Will for years on end found more fertile, open ground in the convoluted mind of the older man, it made not a spit of difference, when Jack woke up in the middle of the night, trashing, his throat constricted around a desperate cry, and his chest covered in cold sweat.

Panicking, grasping the sheets frantically, Jack was only pacified when he found the slumber-warm form breathing peacefully next to him, and sleepily tightened his hold securely around Jack when his fingers dug into Will's blessedly dry hair.

After a fortnight of sleepless nights, once Jack was reluctant to even try closing his eyes in fear of finding himself dragging Will's lifeless corpse up on deck, the sole victim of a storm Jack himself had self-sufficiently chosen to face, instead of veering off, far and wide.

In the flickering light of a lantern in the small hours, when they sat talking in bed, Jack's face buried in the crook of Will's neck, his words lost into the man's skin as he tried to formulate his nightmares into speech, yet, unable to utter them, as if blasting them out in the open would make them come true.

Knowing, understanding perhaps better than anyone else ever could, Will cupped Jack's face and saw the remnants of his own fears in the dreading darkness of his eyes. "I once heard a story," Will whispered softly, pulling Jack's head to rest on his shoulder, shifting their covers to keep in their shared warmth.

As Jack wrapped his arm around Will's waist with an encouraging mumble, tossing a leg over his as if to sleep, Will kissed the top of Jack's head thoughtfully, and continued, his fingers finding the Hamsa braided into Jack's hair; "It started with a hoop of strength and unity, made of willow, given to the human kind by the good spirits which roam the earth and inhabit the trees and rock, even the seas."

"All evidence to the contrary."

Will could hear the exhausted smirk through Jack's voice, a rush of tenderness settling pleasantly into his heart at the sound. "I said good spirits. Not fickle and capricious."

"Oh, alright then. Do go on," Jack sank lower on the bed, his head on Will's chest, and grasped Will's arm to have it around him.

"To fight the good spirits, the evil ones--"

"I knew it!"

"The evil ones," pointedly ignoring Jack's remark, Will only found another trinket to fiddle with, "saw the night as their reign, and angered by the gift given to men, filled the night air with bad dreams, destroying the strength, and wedging cracks into the unity, until all became weak and disheartened."

"Sounds about right."

"But the hoop of willow had a spirit of its own, and upon seeing what was taking place, it came forth, and gave the men a spider, a bead, and soft feathers."

"How maddeningly unhelpful."

"The spider," Will tugged a strand of Jack's hair lightly, earning a small chuckle in return, "quickly wove a beautiful web across the hoop, and dragged the bead in the middle." With his fingers traveling along Jack's chest, Will illustrated his tale, "then it took the feathers and knitted them to the creation."

"Then what happened?" Jack lift his head at Will pausing, the pleasant circling on his chest stopping, and found him frowning. "I'm trying to remember… A hawk."

"A hawk."

"Yes," Will returned to fondling Jack's chest, causing the man to pillow his head on Will's with a content sigh. "The spider turned into a hawk, which had given the feathers."

"No wonder you were confused."

"And then it spoke."

"Did it now?"

"The hawk explained that all the bad dreams would get caught in the web and get lost in the tangles, finding not a way out, but be locked away in the bead, while the good dreams would flow freely, dancing and slipping through the holes, and sliding down the feathers, delivering the blessings of the good spirits onto the sleeper."

"I could use some of that."

"Then it took the thing and flew high up to the roof of the Earth and fastened it there, so that all ill would be trapped in it, and would never plague the world again."

"Obviously that didn't work too well."

Cued in by Jack's half-asleep grumble, Will reached to douse the lamp and wiggled down the bed, nose level to Jack. "No. But it's not the only one." A tender kiss goodnight, and before long, the restful breathing of two men filled the cabin.

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"Will?" Jack stood, mystified, at a market table in Mexico, staring at a ring covered with leather, sinew straining across it, with a bead in the dead center, dark feathers attached to it, perfecting the image Jack had formed in his mind from a certain description. Grinning, Jack turned to Will, sheer glee shining on his face; "You think this one will do the trick?"

Whether it was the great hawk under whose wings they were protected once the catcher of their nightmares was duly fastened to their cabin, or if it were the evil spirits having found men who together could best even the most fearsome of evils, it mattered none, as they slept peacefully in a tangled mess of their own, blessedly rid of death and bone-white rictuses.

Right until the next bell.

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"Of course it's not the same one, but it's the closest I could find." Jack whispered, plucking the loop from Will and holding it up for them both to see, shaking it a little so that the feathers fluttered. Giving the dreamcatcher back to Will, but not letting go of his hand while he rounded to face him and regarded Will solemnly. "It was never meant to last forever." Smiling through his forlorn tone Jack smoothed out the feathers to Will's palm, then delved his fingers under Will's sleeve, finding a scar to caress. "But it served well in giving us one."


End file.
